Seven-Day Love Story. Nikki LoganЧитать онлайн книгу.
surly Oliver tightly restrained by the tether in her grip. Holding him gave her an anchor. Todd saw her coming and slowly stretched up to his full height, his eyes soft. âWhat would you like me to do?â
Jayne laughed lightly. âCould you maybe shrink about a foot? â
âNot much I can do about that, Iâm afraid, but Iâll do my best to be non-threatening.â
It had been a while since sheâd not felt threatened around a stranger, but for some reason she wasnât dissolving into a trembling mess around Todd Blackwood. Although he was making her a whole different kind of nervous.
She brought Oliver closer, and Todd took a step back to give him some space. Jayne nudged the black dog between them. Ollie was as stiff as she was.
âRelax, Jayne. Heâs feeling your tension. The worst that can happen is that heâll try to bite me, and if he does he and I will have a quick man-to-man conversation to figure out whoâs boss.â
She shifted until her body was slightly between them.
Todd frowned. âI wonât hurt him, Jayne. Just like people, dogs like to know where they stand with others. He might appreciate the direct approach. Letâs just see how he goes.â
Human and dog ignored each other for a few moments, and then Todd took a step closer. Ollie looked up at him suspiciously.
âThis could take a few minutes,â he said. âIf he sees us being comfortable with each other he might relax.â
Comfortable. Right. Jayne forced her body into a parody of a relaxed pose, triggering another one of those killer smiles. Her mouth dried, just a little bit.
The smile graduated to a deep chuckle. âEven Iâm not buying that. Plan B ⦠how about just some normal conversation?â
It had been a while since sheâd had any conversation that wasnât via e-mail. Todd took a tiny step closer to Ollie. The dog stayed put. It was working. She sighed. âOkay. What would you like to talk about?â
Todd let his hand drop down to his side, close to Ollieâs head so he could sniff it, but his eyes stayed locked on her. âHow about what youâre doing out here all by yourself? Seems unusual.â
She stiffened immediately, and Ollie pushed up onto his feet.
Todd broke in quickly âOr ⦠we could talk about something else. Where did you grow up? Thatâs not a Queensland accent I hear.â
Jayne let out a big breath, and Ollieâs tail sank back towards the ground. âHardly. Iâm from Pennsylvania originally.â
âWelcome to Australia.â
âIâve been here a couple of years, but thank you.â She laughed.
Ollie looked up at her, as if surprised by the unfamiliar sound. Todd took the opportunity to slide his hand down and gently rest it on the dogâs black head. Ollie forgot to flinch. âKeep talking,â he said quietly, and then slowly closed his fingers into a rub.
Jayne drew in a breath. This was the closest Ollie had been to another person since sheâd found him skulking, half-starved, down near her back dam. âI moved here two years ago. I was looking for somewhere different to where Iâm from.â
Blue eyes met hers. âDifferent?â
Safer. Further. âSomewhere new.â
Todd was fully squatting now, and Ollie glared at him guardedly. But he was prepared to tolerate it as long as the gentle rubbing continued. It did, and Jayne found herself transfixed by the sight of those strong fingers pushing through Ollieâs black fur.
âThis must be quite different to home,â he said.
âNot so much. Jim Thorpe is a small community in the valley of a mountain forest. This all feels quite familiar. The trees are different. But still beautiful.â She smiled down at Ollie and added her gentle strokes to Toddâs.
âYou miss it?â
She lifted her eyes back to his but couldnât hold his gaze. She glanced out at the towering forest circling her sanctuary. And then it hit her. She was making conversation. And her chest wasnât imploding. âI miss parts of it. But everyone grows up, moves on.â
âYou didnât want to stay close to your family?â
Oh, how she hadâand her mother had cried and cried on hearing how far from home her only daughter was moving. But Jayne loved them too much to expose them to any further risk. Not that sheâd told them about any of it.
âWe stay close. We talk via the internet. We e-mail.â
Ollie shifted, and Jayne cupped his ridged silken skull and stroked him reassuringly. Then warm, strong fingers accidentally tangled with hers. A heat-burst surged up to her palm and she only just managed to suppress a yelp as she leaped back, sending Ollie scampering for cover.
Her eyes flew to Toddâs. His were carefully schooled.
âSorry.â The pointless apology tumbled off her lips.
Todd tipped his head to the side and stared at herâa burning, inscrutable regardâand shrugged. âItâs a start.â
Ollie. He was talking about Ollie.
âI should get back to this enclosure,â he said casually, as though the burst of static energy had been purely one-sided. Of course it had. He looked entirely unaffected.
She cleared her throat. âYes. I should get back to work, too.â
Uh-huh. As if that was going to happen while her heart was racing and while she had something so delightfully ornamental to look at through the window. Jayne ducked her head and turned back for the house.
Oliver trotted happily after her, oblivious to the awkward human moment heâd just caused.
CHAPTER THREE
Sunday
JAYNE studied Todd through a crack in the drawn curtains of the back windows, unable to tear her gaze away from his broad shoulders and his patient, methodical construction methods. Now he was perched on a drum in her yard, oblivious to her surveillance, sharing his ham sandwich with an adoring Ollie.
Even the most mistrustful dog on the planet had a melting point, it seemedâapproximately the same temperature that ham was cured at.
A man who dogs loved couldnât be all bad, right? Her four-legged friends might be easily bought, butâgiven their damaged backgroundsâthey were even more attuned to survival than she was, and all four would have kept their distance from someone with ulterior motives, she was sure.
Or was she just looking for excuses to like him?
Todd Blackwood was not like the men sheâd used to know. Every part of him screamed higher education, yet he could whack together a holding pen as if heâd been doing it all his life. His casual discussion hinted at city origins but he was hanging around a small village digging up handyman work as though he were a drifter.
It should have made her more suspicious, but it didnât. After all, people could draw all kinds of conclusions about Jayne MorrowâJ.C. Moro to her gazillions of adoring fans. A top-of-the-list novelist, living a simple life in the Australian forest; what would people make of that? She had no doubt that people back home were reading things into her absence, making up what they didnât know.
Prima donna. Marketing gimmick.
Only her agent and a small